


The Bound Woman

by Steggellettea94



Series: 13 Ghosts Rewrite [3]
Category: Original Work, Thir13en Ghosts (2001)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steggellettea94/pseuds/Steggellettea94
Summary: When does the cycle of vengeance end?





	The Bound Woman

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of the movie Thirteen Ghosts. Each short story will follow one of the ghosts, how they died, and how they were taken to the house. The Thirteen Ghosts Wiki says the First Born Son is represented by Aires, the ram; as a bonus - for lack of better word - twelve of the stories will contain the symbol of the astrological zodiac - a ram, a bull, twins, ect.
> 
> These are my interpretations of the Black Zodiac - if I had been given the premise of Thirteen Ghosts and the Black Zodiac, what I would do with it. It's not so much a fanfic as it is a rewrite.
> 
> Not beta-read.
> 
> Word count: 6,110

October 18, 2004

It was cold, far colder than southern California had any right to be. Merle glanced out the window of Fallyn’s apartment, tightly wrapped in a thick blanket, and clutching a warm cup of matcha. She watched the sky - a pale, almost translucent blue - for a moment before turning her attention back to the television. The film was frozen, paused at some absurd time. Of course when it started to get interesting, Fallyn had to run to the bathroom. Merle shifted in her cocoon and gazed absentmindedly at the room - the overwhelming collection of movies, medical books stacked haphazardly on a small, stuffed bookcase amongst fake plants and action figures, and a big blue armchair diagonally from her, plush with far too many pillows and blankets. She had been excited to come over, to watch the movie. Now she was tired, a sleepy sort of drunk from the high of watching the highly anticipated film.

The bathroom door opened, and Fallyn came out, drying her hands. She smiled at Merle and adjusted her sweatshirt. Merle rolled her eyes.

“Ready?”

Merle responded by staring at the television. Her sister laughed quietly.

“It’s not like I was in there a long time.”

“I know.” Merle rubbed her arms. 

Fallyn raised an eyebrow. “Are you cold?”

Merle looked at her. Eyebrow still raised, Fallyn walked over to the armchair and grabbed a green blanket, putting it over her sister’s shoulders. “See,” she said, “if you were smart, you’d remember to dress warmer.”

“I am smart.”

“Not enough to remember you’re always cold.”

Merle grumbled and tightened the second blanket around herself. Fallyn laughed. She made her way into the small kitchen off to the side of the living room, and began rummaging around for popcorn. Merle watched her, eyes glazing over as she thought about her own movements, how she had made lunch while her sister started the first movie in their marathon. It was eery how similar they are; how they were almost identical in action as well as their face. Dark hair, thick eyebrows, high cheekbones, tan skin, and a prominent nose from their father’s side. She should have worn her hair different, worn something other than her sweatshirt and jeans. It’s not that she didn’t love or like Fallyn; more that she felt like a copy, a duplicate Fallyn. Most agreed, thinking if Fallyn liked sports, so did Merle; if her favorite color was pink, so was Merle’s; if Fallyn thought blondes were cute, so did Merle. They were not seen as compliments or even equals, but mirror images of one another.

“Okay, out of everything we’ve seen so far - what was your favorite?”

Merle blinked. Fallyn was leaning over the counter, head cocked. The popcorn slowly spun in the microwave, occasionally popping.

“What was yours?”

Fallyn snorted. “You don’t have one?”

Merle shrugged. She didn’t have favorites, Fallyn knew that. She had a top twenty that was never consistent and nothing was ordered; one and twenty held the same significance.

“I like the second movie - the Japanese one. ‘Jo-on.’ Something like that,” Fallyn answered.

“‘Ju-on’?”

“Yeah.” The microwaved let out two long beeps. Fallyn turned, pulled out the popcorn - cursing as she jerked her hand back - and flung it into a bowl. She carefully opened it, flinching as her hand touched the hot bag.

“What did you like about it?”

“It was...different.” Fallyn tossed the bag into the sink. “I don’t know a lot about Japanese stories, so it was kinda cool to see that. Their ghosts are different than ours.”

“I think they’re called ghouls.”

“That’s so cool.” Fallyn walked over, and flopped onto the couch, popcorn bouncing out of the bowl. “It’s terrifying though, isn’t it?”

“What is? The ghouls?”

“No - I mean, yeah, the ghouls, but the whole premise of it.” Merle glanced at her. Fallyn looked thoughtful as she shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. She offered the bowl to Merle; she took a couple pieces. Her mouth still full she continued, “one person’s cruelty leads to a cycle of vengeance that spreads out - it’s like...a virus or something. You know those, uh, graphics that show the spread of something?”

“Viruses spread?”

“Yeah, but I mean -?”

“Like disaster zones from ground zero?”

“Yes!”

Merle nodded, thinking. “It’s a bunch of bull, though.” Fallyn frowned. She turned fully and stared at Merle. “I mean, I have no doubt the ghouls are real -” Fallyn snorted “-not the ones in the movie! I mean the concept! Like Dracula isn’t real, but that doesn’t mean vampires aren’t. I was talking about the cycle of vengeance thing. It’s not real. It’s crap.”

“Like Dracula?”

“Yeah.” She knew her sister was laughing at her. It didn’t matter. “The saying is ‘an eye for an eye.’ That’s where it ends. Someone hurts you, then you hurt them back. Everything’s done. Over with. Finished.”

“The saying is ‘an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind,” Fallyn corrected. “And I think that’s a Western thing, not Japanese.”

“Still,” Merle argued, “I don’t think ghosts or ghouls or even living people go around sucking others into their misfortune. I think they take their revenge, and then -” she makes a gesture, like waving something off.

Fallyn shrugged, picking up the remote to play the film. “You think what you want, Mer,” she said. “It’s still scary as shit to me.”

 

***  
January 27, 2006

This isn’t what she would have wanted. Too much black, too...what’s the word? Started with an M...mel...Maleficent? No, melancholy. Maleficent was - she wallowed. She had been her third favorite Disney villain, though she could have been her tenth or second. Merle was odd like that. Had been. Was. She would be pissed about all this.   
A small smile crossed Fallyn’s face. It felt unnatural, as though she hadn’t spent the last twenty years of her life laughing and smiling and enjoying life. If anyone had torn their gaze away from the casket and saw her face - if they could have bared it - they would have thought she looked like a grotesque clown, a sick grin painted on her face. That would have made Merle laugh. She hated - had hated - these things. Funerals were boring. “Take me to New Orleans,” she had once proclaimed. They had been thirteen at the time. “I wanna be buried above ground, in one of those fancy coffins, with catnip surrounding my grave. People will remember me as Bast -”

“Sekhmet!” Fallyn had chimed in, cackling.

“Bast and Sekhmet! The cat queen!” Merle had looked at Fallyn, her eyes twinkling. “Promise me, Lyn. No sadness - fun music, lacy umbrellas, and cats. No black, only rainbows.”

Fallyn had continued laughing, though it had started to feel forced. “We - we shouldn’t be saying this!”

“Why not? I wanna look down and think - that’s a party!”

They had laughed, laughed so hard they clutched each other, gripping their stomachs. Fallyn’s hands started to shake and she held onto her bag. She swallowed, a dull roaring in her ears like being under water. No, she would not cry. Merle hadn’t wanted tears at thirteen; she most certainly would not have tears at twenty.

 

August 13, 2015

The car ride was quiet, only the sounds of AC/DC crackling through the radio filled the space as the car rolled into the parking lot. It looked more like it was on its way to a funeral rather than a birthday adventure. Fallyn scowled, then softened her expression. ‘Birthday adventure.’ What a weird phrase.

It hadn’t been her idea to come here. She enjoyed spelunking, cave diving, skydiving - really, anything to do with climbing and pulleys and harnesses, but today...today she didn’t want to do anything. She had voiced her plans to Ashley Harding, another nurse at the hospice facility she worked at. Stay-in, watch a movie or two, drink a few gallons of hot chocolate - she wasn’t a drinker in the alcoholic sense, never had been - then go to bed. Ashley had scoffed before announcing she would take her spelunking, her treat. “You can’t just sit around - you’re thirty! That’s a milestone!” What milestone, Fallyn wasn’t so sure. She was sure that getting a job with your friend from college was a stupid choice. 

She should have said no, told Ash that she didn’t want to do anything. But she had relented. It had been eleven years. She could go out for one birthday.

Ashley paid the parking fee from the driver’s seat, then drove onward, slowly through the parking lot. She eventually found a spot and proudly announced they were here. The radio turned off with the car engine. The sudden silence woke Lauren Willard - a mutual friend from college and Ashley’s current roommate - with a loud snort.

“We’re here?” she slurred.

“Yup!” Ash punctuated the ‘P’ with a definitive pop. She unlocked the doors, hopped out and stretched. Everyone else followed suit. Fallyn looked around.

The parking lot was nothing interesting. It was relatively small, gravelly and gray, but it was secured. A tiny ticket booth at the entrance with a sign displaying the prices for admission. Another much larger sign stood opposite from the booth, across the lot, marking the entrance to the forest, the park they would soon go into. Fallyn couldn’t make it out, but she imagined it boasted about the park’s history and stated a few rules, like no dogs and to keep to the trails.

Outside the little lot, it was lovely. She took a deep breath. Fresh and clean, the way cold water tastes on a hot, dry day. The surrounding trees were brightly green in the last stages of summer. Everything seemed patient, as though waiting for something - for them? It was eerie, though whether that was the early morning mist coasting along the ground of the park itself, Fallyn wasn’t so sure.

Ash popped open the trunk and they grabbed their gear.

“Beautiful, right?” Elysiah baker asked. She had slept the entire ride over - like Lauren - and the sleep seemed to have done her good. Here eyes were sparkling, and the bags under them - dark and heavy when they picked her up - had faded into something a little worn, but not torn, like an over-washed shirt compared to a ripped up, paint-splattered one.

Fallyn smiled and picked up her bag. It felt a little forced, but no one commented on it. Elyisah nudged her. “Let’s go celebrate your big day, huh?”

“Yeah,” Fallyn said, as Ash locked the car. The four of them made their way to the park entrance, Lauren stretching and yawning all the while. “Let’s.”

 

November 2, 2004

He had no name until he met Merle. Until Merle was found. Up until then, he could have been anyone. He was no one. From a spec, barely noticeable in the history of humankind to the boogeyman people warned their children about. From a little nobody to Michael Myers. A dream come true.

His face was unremarkable, hair unexciting, clothes simple. The perfect monster. Fallyn stared at his image on her parent’s TV, transfixed. Her mother had gone upstairs, unable to watch the news. She didn’t want to see his face, didn’t want to know his name. She just wanted him gone, punished. Her father stayed, sitting in his armchair, jaw clenched. Fallyn probably looked like him: thick eyebrows furrowed, thin lips twisted in anger and disgust, dark eyes piercing those blues as though they could see each other through the screen.

The newscaster was speaking. “Rhett Woodward Hewitt was arrested today for the murder of Merle Allison Crane. Crane, the daughter of first generation Dutch-French immigrants, was nineteen years old when she had been approached by Hewitt at the clothing store she worked at.” They played the surveillance tape as they had for the last week. Out of the corner of her eye, Fallyn say her father turn his face, pushing his fist up towards his mouth. His dark eyes glistened. She didn’t look away - she wouldn’t. She watched as a black and white image of Merle waved Rhett Woodward Hewitt off. The footage was blurry, but there was no mistaking her, from her new bob to her favorite bag with the Disney villain keychains. Fallyn focused in on Rhett Woodward Hewitt - unextraordinary then as he was now. 

“Police believe Hewitt followed Crane’s car, ramming his vehicle into hers until she swerved off the road.” Highway cameras - dull and blurry - showed the black truck following the little gray Honda. The newscaster cut between several cameras showing their commute - Merle must have been terrified - before returning to Rhett Woodward Hewitt’s image. They had no video of the accident. He had been clever - ramming her car off the road when they were off the highway and onto the dirt road that led towards the house. A pang hit Fallyn. A dull roaring sounded in her ears and she swallowed, closed her eyes, and then forced herself to look. “Hewitt killed Merle and attempted to hide her body by burying her vertical in the ground. Her family - father, fifty-one year old Robert Crane, mother, fifty-seven year old Febe, and Merle’s twin sister Fallyn - reported her missing that night. Police found her body three days later, two miles outside her family home.” Another pang, sharper this time. She had been so close, so close to home. Just a minute or two longer and she…

Fallyn swallowed again. Her father had turned back towards the TV, his hand still covering his mouth. The screen changed back to a video of Rhett Woodward Hewitt being led inside the jail. The newscaster continued for a minute more, mentioning his age - thirty-five - his employment - self-employed - and how long he had lived in California - since he was nineteen. Fallyn watched him, unassuming in everything. He glanced at the cameras around him, a small smile playing at his lips. Her lips curled in disgust. The roaring grew louder, thundering in her ears, as the newscaster announced the date of the trial.

 

AUGUST 13, 2015

They reached the entrance of the cave. It had taken ten minutes of walking - not that she had minded. There was something soothing, relieving about the forest. The smell, the sound of dirt and rocks crunching under her boots - it was calming. Fallyn’s shoulders softened, her strides quickening, and her frown slowly falling before twisting up into some dreamlike smile.

The cave was large and supposedly very deep. The dark reds and browns of the cave seemed to invite her in, asking her to see them, explore them. It opened itself to her and the others. She ran her hand along the mossy rocks outside of the cave. Beautiful.

“Holy shit, this is nice,” Elysiah exclaimed. She stood near Fallyn, hands on her hips, grinning. Lauren, a few feet behind them, looked the cave entrance up and down before turning to a sweaty Ashley.

“You’ve done this one, right?”

“Would I take you somewhere I haven’t gone?”

There was silence, only interrupted by the crunching of their boots and birds chirping. Ashley grinned wider. “Okay - maybe I would, but not today! Today is about Lyn - and not scaring Lauren.”

“I’m not scared,” she said quietly. She didn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular. Elysiah put her arm around her shoulders.

“It’ll be fun,” she said. She looked at the other two and gestured. “Well...lead the way.”

 

JANUARY 5, 2005

There was no way, no way this could be their defense. Fallyn sat between her mother and father, staring at Rhett Woodward Hewitt’s lawyer - James Scott, a man who smirked whenever the press referred to him as the Devil’s Advocate. The room was in a strained silence, hanging onto Scott’s words, thinking about what he had just claimed. It was ridiculous.

Scott fought back a smirk, and continued. “What is your relationship with Roswell?”

Rhett Woodward Hewitt shrugged. It was offensive how plain he was. Fallyn would  
never have noticed him - no one would have had he not...Even his suit was unremarkable; black and baggy, it left everything to the imagination. He was a stark contrast to the brilliantly and rather obnoxiously dressed James Scott in his dark green bespoke suit and bright tie. That shouldn’t be allowed - in court or anywhere; most lawyers wore something basic, black or navy, to keep the case on their clients and their arguments. Not James Scott. Not the Devil’s Advocate.

“We don’t talk much,” Rhett Woodward Hewitt continued. Scott nodded solemnly.

“And why is that?”

“He’s...to tell you the truth, he’s a little odd.”

“In what way?”

“Ros...he’s always been attracted to the violence of things. Like breaking animals. Hurting them, making them cry. Liked horror movies too - always got a little giddy at the gross bits.”

“And you didn’t?”

Rhett Woodward Hewitt swallowed and looked down at his lap. What a wonderful actor. “No,” he said quietly. “I...it scared me. I liked the...the frights...but never...never the gore.”

James Scott turned to the jury, eyebrows upturned into some mockery of sympathy. “The prosecution claims that my client, Mr. Rhett Woodward Hewitt, killed Merle  
Crane. The only evidence they had been able to procure has been a murky video at the store and on the highway. There were no prints at the scene - no DNA on Miss Crane’s person. The knife, as you know,” he gave a small smile to the jury, as though sharing a joke with them, “was discovered five miles from the body, blood matching that of Miss Crane, and fingerprints alleging my client as the killer. I propose that it was not in fact Mr. Rhett Woodward Hewitt who killed her, but his twin brother, Roswell Winthrop Hewitt.”

There was a murmur in the courtroom. Fallyn snorted and glared. There was no way anyone would believe this. Maybe the video evidence, but the physical? It was Rhett Woodward Hewitt’s fingerprints on the knife, his truck that followed her. The lawyer said Roswell had an alibi; Rhett did not. This little twist belongs on a TV show, not in real life. She glared at Rhett Woodward Hewitt His eyes remained fixed in his lap, brows furrowed sadly. The corner of his mouth turned upward, just slightly.

 

AUGUST 13, 2018

The climb was quiet. Not oppressive or dense, just...quiet. Water dripped off rocks and splashed onto the small pools they walked through. It was musky, like old, wet dirt and bat guano. The walls were slimy and rough; Lauren had been convinced she had run her hand through guano and had begged Elysiah for her gloves. Their boots splashed and crunched and skid through the water and across the rocks.

Ashley led the group, pausing every few minutes to double check her map. Elysiah was behind her, followed by Fallyn, and lastly, Lauren. Fallyn had suggested Lauren go in the middle, but she had refused, finding comfort in being behind the others; the way she said it was like she was conquering her own fear, as though she was afraid of something grabbing her and could only be safe from the back of the line. 

A couple of tight squeezes, and Ash announced they would soon need to break out their rope gear. “It’s not too far,” she explained calmly. Lauren looked petrified, like she didn’t realize what the rope they brought would be used for. “The rope just gives us a little extra...stability to get down.”

Lauren looked uncertain. Fallyn put her hand on her shoulder, careful of a patch of gunk on her jacket. “I’ll go first,” she said quietly. “It’ll be better once you see me - see us doing it.”

She nodded though she did not look convinced. Fallyn gave her a smile and followed after Ashley and Elysiah, hearing the splash of Lauren behind her.

To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure why Lauren had come. She was scared of almost everything - no, that wasn’t true. She was scared of anything that could be dangerous, labeled adventurous. To Lauren, ‘adventurous’ was a code word for ‘stupid actions that lead to one’s death.’ Merle thought like that. 

Fallyn blinked, scrunching up her nose. No. She would not think about her. Not right now. She tried to focus on the walls - swirling mixture of burnt orange, red, brown, and yellow. Like a sunset trapped underground. Fallyn ran her hand along the wall, cataloging its texture under her glove. She stared for a moment, the contrast between her black glove and the wall, illuminated by her headlamp, drawing her back into her own mind, before she glanced back at Lauren, and pressed onward.

 

FEBRUARY 2, 2005

“Rhett Woodward Hewitt has been released from prison. Hewitt was arrested in January for the murder of nineteen year old Merle Crane of Los Angeles, California. His lawyer, James Scott, stunned the court on January fifth, claiming that the police had apprehended the wrong man. In a twist fit for TV, police took DNA samples from both Hewitt and his twin brother, Roswell Winthrop Hewitt, and confirmed they had indeed put the wrong man on trial. While Roswell Hewitt is now facing charges, Rhett Hewitt is suing the state for damages, with James Scott once again as his lawyer.”

 

OCTOBER 25, 2005

She shouldn’t be here. Fallyn sat in the park, facing the playground. Her eyes were glazed over, vacant, not really seeing the children running around while their parents watched. A book was opened in her lap, but she hadn’t turned the page in over ten minutes. She had the distant feeling that parents were looking at her oddly, but she didn’t pay attention. She shouldn’t be here.

His house was almost a mile away from the park. That’s why she had stopped here. One last stop before - before what? What exactly was she going to do?

Her chest felt tight and she swallowed. It had seemed simple. It was simple. So why was she still here?

Fallyn tapped her hand against her knee for a moment. She bit her lip. Her eyes seemed to harden as she sat up a little straighter before picking up her bag and book, and leaving the park.

 

AUGUST 13, 2015

Ashley attached the rope around her waist. With a smile to the other three women, she carefully scaled down the side of the cave. It wasn’t too far down - maybe twenty-five feet at the most. However, it was better for them to be cautious than...well, than dead.

She reached the next level of the cave floor, her boots skidding on the damp rocks. She quickly regained her balance and grinned up at them. 

“See,” she said, “it’s not hard.”

Ash unhooked herself from the ropes. Elysiah pulled them up and set about hooking herself into them. They had agreed to climb down in the order they had been walking: Ashley, Elysiah, Fallyn, then Lauren. The other three were used to this; the order was more for Lauren’s benefit.

Elysiah tugged on the ropes, double checking their tightness, and prepared to climb down. Lauren watched her, eyes wide.

Fallyn looked at the ropes secured into the rock at her feet. It was strong. And yet...an eerie feeling started to seep into her bones. She felt like someone was watching them.

She looked around, careful to seem interested in the damp walls so not to frighten Lauren. Fallyn peered back the way they came, but could see nothing. No one was there besides them, or rather, no one was this far into the cave as they were.

She frowned. They hadn’t strayed off the path. She squinted, turning up the brightness on her headlamp. It cast the rocks into shadow, sharp and dark. It looked more menacing this way, all sharp angels and dramatic lighting. She stared. Nothing came out of the shadows, from behind the rocks. There was the faint sound of water dripping.

Fallyn rubbed her hand along the rock - a sort of stabilizer - and took a breath. Bat guano and damp earth melted on her tongue. She grimaced, but took another breath. She had just started calming down when this unease hit, like the universe was reminding her that she was once again spending her birthday without Merle. Like it was punishing her for daring to move on. 

There was a thump, and she turned back around, dimming her headlamp. Elysiah had reached the bottom. She unhooked herself and allowed Lauren to pull the ropes up with shaking fingers. The two women on the next level pulled out their water bottles and took a drag. 

Fallyn gently took the rope from Lauren, and slipped it into the hook around her waist.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure who she was telling this to. Lauren nodded, her eyes transfixed on to Fallyn’s belt. Fallyn turned the headlamp back onto full blast, keeping her head tilted down as she adjusted her belt.. She was slow, methodical, aware of how her fingers blocked the lights and Lauren’s sight.

With one last knot, she finished. She gave a small smile to Lauren and turned to scale down the cave. Her stomach flipped. She glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. Lauren made a sound, and Fallyn quickly turned back to her. 

“It’s fine. Watch.”

She turned fully and - a shadow flashed across the cave. Fallyn’s eyes widened, but she was already partially off the edge, the toes of her boots the only thing still on the cliff. She fell back, her mouth open, no sound coming forth.

With a gasp, Fallyn grabbed onto the rope, suspending herself. She looked up. Lauren stared down at her, eyes frantic. Below her, Elysiah and Ashley were on their feet, staring up at her.

“I’m fine,” she called out. Fallyn swallowed and looked back up at Lauren. She gave what she hoped was an assuring smile and, adjusting her grip on the rope, begin the descend.

Something flashed in her peripheral vision. She would not look. It was a bat. They were all over.

Fallyn sniffed. Her eyebrows furrowed. She sniffed again. There was something musky - not like dirt or animal droppings, but man-made. The kind of smell that companies packages and sold to men as desirable. She inhaled and looked to her right, then left. She looked up at a Lauren, and then back down. 

The smell got stronger. Her hands started to slip.

“Fallyn?” Lauren. Fallyn blinked, her friend’s voice doing little to ease her.

She looked up and there he was. Unassuming, unremarkable. A face in the crowd. Fallyn’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth. He said nothing. He didn’t move. He just stared. Her hands slipped.

Falling, falling, falling. A sharp tug at her waist. She was screaming - there was screaming. Hysterical, vibrating off the walls. She skid - but she wasn’t on the ground. Her feet dangled, kicking. He was there - how was he there? No ropes around his waist, nothing to keep him at Fallyn’s height. He wrapped the rope around her neck and pulled taut, up towards Lauren.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe.

He said nothing. His mouth curled and he leaned in. She could smell him: it was in his clothes, on his skin, cloying against the scent of fresh blood, bright and copper.

“An eye for an eye,” he whispered, his voice dull, oddly feminine.

She gasped and pulled at her neck. The others were frantic, she could feel it. He was stronger. She looked at him, her eyes wet and bloodshot. He smiled. 

“An eye for an eye. An eye for an eye.”

The world faded. Fallyn fell limp.

“An eye for an eye.”

 

AUGUST 13, 2015

It had taken for too long for her body to be retrieved. Police and firefighters and paramedics spent a full forty-five minutes trying to figure out how they were going to take her body out of the cave. They finally decided the other two - Lauren, with the forceful encouragement of her friends, had left to call 911 and was outside the cave, wringing her hands and hyperventilating - would have to drag her back. Several were concerned about the mental wellbeing of the other two women, but could not offer a better solution.

Two hours later, all four women were out of the cave.

Elysiah Baker, Ashley Harding, and Lauren Willard were taken to their car. Each was wrapped in a shock blanket. Ashley was numb, her eyes staring at nothing, almost resigned to what she had witnessed.

Fallyn was quickly assessed by paramedics before being placed in a black bag. The sight of her being zipped up was too much for Elysiah, and she screamed, wailing as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. 

 

AUGUST 13, 2018

She watched them from some distance, not quite hiding, but not out in the open either. She stood between the trees, watching as their car pulled into the gravel parking lot. They have done this for the last three years. Same time. Same place. She had been shocked the first time, but now it was simply customary. She felt no emotion, nothing at all, as the doors opened.

They had changed in the last few years. The first year, they had been easily recognizable. Now...there was something off. It was like meeting someone you hadn’t seen in a long time: they may have the same smile or laugh, but their hair was different, their eyes a little sadder. Ashley’s blonde hair was longer, twisted in a low braid; she hadn’t worn her hair in a high ponytail since that day, almost as though she blamed the hair. More likely, she associated the look with Fallyn and couldn’t handle it. Elysiah looked tired, her hair haphazardly tied in a headscarf, shadows under her eyes prominent, her face heavily lined. Both her and Lauren’s stomach’s were rounded; Lauren’s was much more pronounced. She was the only one who looked the same, as though they had never left the park.

They walked almost arm in arm to a small white cross next to a large tree. It had been placed there just a few days after her death. They stood in silence. Lauren bent down with some help from the other two and placed a small bouquet at the cross’s base. They did this every year.

“Beautiful.”

She didn’t turn around. Lauren carefully sunk to her knees, rubbing her stomach. She was saying something, her eyes down, lips turned up slightly. 

“They care about you.”

Fallyn glanced to her side. A tall man in a black suit leaned against an oak. His eyes were dark like skull sockets, his hair completely gray. His mustache mouth was quirked slightly. Her gaze lingered on his suit before she turned back to the others. All three were kneeling now.

There was a shuffle. She didn’t move as he came closer, his hands in his pockets. He stood next to her, side-by-side, gazing at the scene before them.

“You’re rather odd,” he said after a moment.

Her mouth turned up. “How so?”

“I have met hundreds of ghosts.” Lauren had started crying. Tears dripped down her cheeks, smearing her makeup. The others did not look far behind her. “All of them have different ways they...they met their end. You...you are the first to have been killed by a ghost.”

Fallyn’s smile widened. “I was killed by a ghost?”

“You don’t believe so?”

“Why would I?”

The man was silent. Elysiah had leaned forward and rested her head on the tree above the cross. Her mouth was moving, but Fallyn wasn’t sure any sound was coming out.

“There...was a mention - a statement later retracted by Mrs. Endling - Lauren Ending. She, ah, claimed when you died....you were saying something over and over. A man’s name.”

Fallyn laughed. There was no humor in it. “I was strangled. How could she hear me?”

He shrugged. “Maybe that’s was retracted.” There was more silence. Fallyn wished he would go away. She didn’t have time for him. A humorless smile crossed her face. She had time for everything; she just didn’t care about him. “Rhett Woodward Hewitt...do you remember him?”

She said nothing. Her smile was gone. They had started to stand up, a little wobbly, and Lauren gripped Ashley and Elysiah’s arms. She rightened herself, and they began to make their way back to the car.

“He remembered you.”

“He didn’t kill me.”

“No,” the man agreed, surprising Fallyn. “But he killed your sister.”

Fallyn swallowed. She had thought it would go away, the pain she felt whenever Merle was brought up. It was stronger. She had the suspicion that’s what kept her here: the utter devastation of losing her twin sister. Maybe her father and mother would also remain.

The man shifted back onto the balls of his feet then onto his tiptoes. His left hand moved to his jacket pocket. “And you killed him.”

If she were alive, her skin would have paled and she would have gone cold. Dead, her eyes widened slightly, lips parted, and she stiffened. 

The man coughed. “Rhett Woodward Hewitt was found dead in his home at the age of thirty-six. His front door was unlocked and there was nothing taken.” He sounded like he was reading from an article. Fallyn turned to look at him. He smiled, his eyes gleaming. “He was discovered by police after neighbors complained of a smell. It is believed he died on October 25, 2005…” The man tilted his head. “Hewitt had a history of heart problems...coroners believe his cause of death was a heart attack. He is survived by his identical twin brother, Roswell Winthrop Hewitt, who is currently serving time for the murder of Merle Crane.”

Fallyn stared at him. He continued to smile. She swallowed. “Who are you?”

His grin widened. “Carver Egleton...I am a journalist -”

“A journalist who talks to ghosts?”

“We all have hobbies. And...maybe if more journalists spoke to ghosts we would get, ah, answers.” Fallyn pursed her lips. “Mr. Woodward Hewitt killed your sister and then you killed him...and he came back -”

“He didn’t.”

“You want to believe that,” Carver said. “You want to believe it, because that’s what Merle believed, isn’t it? An eye for an eye and then it’s finished. One person takes revenge on another, and the cycle is over, complete.” Fallyn clenched her fists. She was shaking. “But...that’s not how it works. You know it. ‘An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.’”

“I fell. It was an accident.”

“You made it look like an accident...He returned the favor.”

The shaking intensified. She ran her hands up and down her arms, looking around her. The warm sunlight through the trees felt wrong, like she was being mocked. Fallyn looked back at Carver.

“What do you want?”

He said nothing. She could feel herself getting frantic. Images kept flashing. The cave. Cold and damp. Hanging - choking. Crawling through a small window into a dark basement. Climbing the stairs. Climbing through the cave. A boring man sleeping. Tightening the rope around her waist. A careful shot under his fingernail. Eyes wide, mouth open. Eyes bulging. Deep and dark eyes - then his, blue and vibrant. Gasping, clutching at his chest.

Fallyn stumbled back, her hand clutching her head. She was breathing heavily. Carver stepped towards her.

“You were careful,” he said. His eyes seemed to bore into hers. “You took minute amounts from the hospital over the course of several months. You replayed his testimony, listening for his schedule. You wore gloves and used a needle from your mother - she’s diabetic, correct? One perfect strike under his nail and his heart...it just couldn’t take it.”

“What do you want?” she repeated. Her hand clawed at her chest. She couldn’t breathe.

Carver tilted her head.

“I often wondered…” he began, and Fallyn let out a sob of frustration. She buried her face in her hands and something smacked her on the side of the head. She barely had a chance to look at it - a small black box - before she was gone.

Carver slowly walked over and picked it up. He looked at the box for a moment, then placed it in his pocket. He left, pausing at her cross before making his way across the gravel parking lot and into his car.

He finished his thought aloud, as though she could still hear him, “I often wondered whether or not revenge does end...I guess it doesn’t matter, though. Not when anyone who can do anything is dead.”

 

2001 13 GHOSTS VS 2018/19 13 GHOSTS

The Bound Woman: a woman who was tied up upon death (either as a cause or post-mortem) OR a woman who sealed her own fate.

2001: Susan LeGrow was a high school student who liked to play with boy’s emotions. Her games ended up costing her life (as some would put it). Her boyfriend, enraged by her flirting with another, killed the other boy and then strangled her.

2018: Fallyn Crane watched as her sister’s murderer was allowed to walk, and so took justice into her own hands. She died on her birthday in either a spelunking incident gone wrong or the vengeful ghost of her sister’s murderer tying the ropes around her neck.

Both Susan and Fallyn died of strangulation; both sealed their fates. Susan’s story is more of victim blaming - by flirting, she caused her death/provided her boyfriend with a motive - while Fallyn’s is more ambiguous; we are not sure if she actually saw the ghost, it was an accident, or if it was something akin to “Final Destination.”

Gemini: the third story corresponds with gemini, the twins Castor and Pollux. Both Fallyn & Merle Crane, and Rhett Woodward Hewitt & Roswell Winthrop Hewitt were identical twins.


End file.
